


Hemlock's Bloom

by englandwouldfalljohn



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alliteration, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fandom Trumps Hate, Fix-It, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Poetry, Post-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Think of it as a fic that rhymes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englandwouldfalljohn/pseuds/englandwouldfalljohn
Summary: Upon returning from the 'dead' on his own anniversary, Sherlock seeks out his reason for surviving these years: John Watson. But finding him kneeling on the pavement outside St Bart's halts him in his steps...
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	Hemlock's Bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluebuell33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/gifts).



> For the always lovely [OctoberIsBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33), who kindly donated during Fandom Trumps Hate 2020. Thank you to my brilliant betas [MrsNoggin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsNoggin/pseuds/MrsNoggin) and [Irrevocably_Sherlocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrevocably_Sherlocked/pseuds/Irrevocably_Sherlocked) \- any poetic license taken or mistakes made are mine.

You mark it to the minute, how the mighty did fall

Precision honours hero’s portraits, hung on attic walls

A bended knee, an ocean’s kiss, beguiles my battered mind

You give sweet spirits to the dead, a tear like summer wine

My memory beneath your palms grinds gravely into concrete

And selfish sinner that I am, your grief means not defeat

For here I stand, still spinning lies long moments since returned

Where last you stood as Richard reigned and by death life was earned

I’d flippant follow your steps forth and casual call your name

If not for where my bones had lain bouquets now do the same

Philosophers and rebels raise their hands to hemlock’s bloom

But posing there in poison’s grasp, a rose lights up this tomb

That you should pick poetic plants is true to you, my friend

So stutter I upon this spot now wondering how to mend

My heart, the hope that long preserved it, swells within my chest

And back I step with swiftest gait, for fear you’ll think this jest

That here if I approach you, and illicit idol risen

The mantle of mismanaged faith you’ll cast as some sick vision 

But now, oh now, my legs leaden and time glacial becomes 

For as you stride to join the street, I see your jaw go numb 

We’re face to face before my mind can fight or flight engage

I wince and searing scars run hot in bracing for your rage

Until I understand that, soldier-steady, you’ve walked on

And like a lark in springtime speak a soft familiar song

You wonder whether following is what I’m wont to do

For months of marching on have surely made me homesick too

My mouth can manage nothing and your back is all I see

Yet my footsteps follow blind until we reach 221B


End file.
